All I Want for Christmas is You
by gypsyscarfwoman
Summary: A little late Christmas-themed follow-up to 3.08. Because I can't cope with all the angst that's coming in 3.09.


_**AN:** So, yeah, way too late for Christmas. Although last year I think I was still writing Christmas in March, so maybe this is an improvement? But anyway, this is from a brainstorming idea I gave to Snapdragon83 and then promptly took back to try to exorcise the scene I saw in my head. I know tonight's episode is going to shatter my heart into a million pieces, so here is an alternative to canon angst. If you need me, I'll be living here until Jeller gets their shit sorted..._

* * *

The streets of New York were unusually quiet at 8 p.m. on Christmas Eve, but Jane barely noticed as she went up the steps to Kurt's— to _their_ apartment, she mentally corrected herself. She'd been staying with Patterson for the past week, but Patterson had left that afternoon to visit her family for the holiday. She had invited Jane to join her, just as Tasha had invited her to spend Christmas with her _abuela_. But Jane had turned them both down. Deep inside, she knew where she belonged.

She was still angry, she acknowledged, as the elevator climbed to her floor, but even more, she missed her husband. She hadn't even seen him in days. He'd taken a short-term assignment, unrelated to the tattoo cases, Reade had told her. But Patterson had let her know that he would be back today, and Jane knew it was time to go home. This was the first Christmas they'd spent in the same city since they'd gotten married. They had planned to buy a tree and decorate right after Hirst's arrest, but instead Kurt had told her the truth about Avery, and she'd walked out.

But if you couldn't fix your marriage at Christmas, the time of peace on earth and goodwill toward men, when could you?

She drew a deep breath, and unlocked the door. The apartment beyond was cold and dark, and there was no sign of Kurt.

She looked around the empty space blankly. She'd envisioned a hundred scenarios in her head. That Kurt would be happy to see her, that they would continue to fight, that they would passionately reconcile. But in none of those scenarios had she considered the possibility that he wouldn't be here.

She turned on the lights and slowly pulled the door closed behind her.

Now what?

After a moment of indecision, she dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes, and stalked over to bump up the thermostat back to normal living conditions. And then she marched into the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of bourbon, and reached for a glass. A twinkling on the counter caught her attention, and she turned to face her wedding ring, still sitting on the kitchen counter where she had placed it before she walked out.

The last time she left, Kurt had picked it up and carried it in his pocket for the entire eighteen months she was gone, never giving up hope that he would put it back on her hand. But this time, he had left it there.

He'd given up on her. On them.

And then she knew where he was. He'd gone to Colorado, to spend Christmas with his daughter, and Allie and Connor. To spend the holiday with the people he loved, and the people who loved him back.

She drained her glass in one gulp, the fiery liquid burning all the way down. And then she turned her back on the ring, and took her empty glass and the bottle over to the sofa. She refilled the glass, but instead of drinking, set it on the table in front of her, and leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

The same thoughts circled endlessly in her head, like a dog futilely chasing his tail. _He lied to me._ But she had lied to him, too, about how Emma Shaw died. _But we weren't married then_. She hadn't wanted to hurt him. _And he didn't want to hurt you._ She had told him the truth eventually. _And he told you the truth, too_. But he had still trusted her, even after that. _He loves you._ She knew that was true. And she loved him too.

No matter what.

She got up from the sofa, stalked across to the counter, scooped up her ring, and jammed it back on her finger. Where it belonged. Where it would stay.

She looked at it for a long moment, remembering the day Kurt had placed it on her finger. A perfect day, but maybe not necessarily a real one. On a real day, they were themselves, warts and all, not the dressed up, perfect people who gotten married that day. Real people who tried to do their best but made mistakes anyway. Who loved and forgave each other's mistakes. Wasn't that what marriage was supposed to be about?

She turned to go back to the sofa, but before she could move down there was a soft noise, the scratch of a key in the lock. She turned to face the door as it swung open, and Kurt stepped inside.

She stared at him, blankly, all the words in her head instantly gone.

He didn't seem surprised to find her there, but the look in his eyes was wary. Uncertain of his welcome. "Merry Christmas, Jane."

And then it was all suddenly quite simple. She took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Merry Christmas," she whispered brokenly, hugging him fiercely to her.

His arms came up to hold her tight, as they always had. And as they always would. She closed her eyes and buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

He'd told her so before, but this time, she believed him. "I know."

"I never meant to hurt you."

She knew that, too. She leaned back far enough so that she could see his eyes. "No more secrets," she said sternly. "Even if it's something that could hurt me."

"No more secrets," he agreed, and then stopped, the wary look returning to his eye. "Well, one more secret."

She tensed and knew that he felt it when his arms tightened around her. "One more?"

"I brought you a Christmas present." He kissed her forehead and then pulled away. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he turned her to face the still-open door to their apartment.

There was a young woman standing in the doorway. Jane took in her dark hair and the familiar shape of her eyes, but her brain couldn't accept what she was seeing.

"Jane, this is Avery."

She heard Kurt's voice, but it seemed to be coming from a great distance away. _How?_ Her mouth formed the words, but she didn't have any air in her lungs to push out the sound. She couldn't breathe, couldn't blink for fear the figure in front of her would disappear. Only the weight of Kurt's hand on her shoulder kept her anchored.

"She figured out how to send me a message. She's smart. Just like her mom."

Avery's lips turned up slightly, in a hesitant smile. "Hi."

The noise that came out of her throat was somewhere in between a sob and a laugh. Kurt's hand on her shoulder blade gave her a small push, and she reached out to gather her daughter— her _daughter—_ into her arms.

She was both larger and smaller than she expected. Larger than the baby she'd held in her memory, but shorter than Jane herself. Shorter than Tasha, even. And yet she seemed to fit Jane's arms perfectly. Her arms came up to hug Jane in return in a surprisingly tight grip, and Jane closed her eyes in a futile attempt to hold back the tears that spilled over.

She felt Kurt's hand on her back and she turned her face blindly toward him, not letting go of Avery, who was still holding on to her. And so Kurt wrapped his arms around both of them. "Merry Christmas," he murmured and pressed his lips to Jane's forehead.

"I love you." Jane managed to get the words out past the giant lump in her throat. "So much."

He smiled at her, the same soft look he'd always had for her shining in his eyes. "I love you too."

She snaked one arm around his waist as she hugged Avery with the other. Holding tight to her family.

No matter what happened in the future, she wasn't ever going to let go of either of them again.


End file.
